A Memory
by Stefan-sama
Summary: Lost and confused, Queen Ovelia remembers a distant, dear memory of a lost friendship that transcended titles.


**Hey, everyone! I realize that it has been a very, _very_ long time- about four months. I've got two reasons for my disappearance, though I doubt that's a good enough excuse. First of all, schoolwork's been accelerating with AP testing in a couple weeks- but who am I kidding, I'm not studying. That's why I'm here. Secondly, my old laptop finally broke down, and my new one lacks MS Word, which I'd been using up until that point. I'd downloaded a free software as replacement, but it doesn't have an autorecover function (you can see where this is going). So because I'd grown so used to not periodically saving my work, when my computer screwed up I lost major progress in a Dynasty Warriors story I'd been writing, and _again _with a story for Star Ocean II, both of which I essentially ragequit. So from now on, it's autosaving Google Drive for me, and you should be seeing things from me much more regularly. I'll also be posting my fanfiction on Tumblr from now on, but you guys here get notes like these, the full experience, so to speak. Anyway, back to business. I finished Tactics last night, and I loved it so much that I pretty much immediately jumped to write this. With the most well-written story of political intrigue I've ever experienced, I couldn't possibly have not wrote something. Ramza, too, had development that seemed both natural and dynamic, a balance hard to strike for any writer. Of course, the problem there is that it made it really difficult for me to place him; I'm really not sure I did him very true to canon, at least at this point in the story. Another issue I had was modifying my syntax; I really wanted to keep true to the style used in War of the Lions, both in dialogue and narration, but while fun it was hard at times to keep natural. Please tell me how I did with both to help improve my writing. In any case, that's enough of me ranting; this is way too long an AN for this size of story. Please enjoy.**

** A Memory**

"I shall see you in a moment, then," Delita said, drawing his cape around his shoulders with a flourish as he turned back to her. Ovelia nodded in wordless acknowledgment; noticing, Delita took his hand from the door and returned to his wife's side. "Is something troubling you?" he asked, looking down into her eyes.

She avoided his gaze. "Nothing at all," she replied quietly.

Delita raised an eyebrow, but refrained from pressing her further. "Very well, then," he said, letting out a small sigh. "I hope you can come to dinner tonight." He took her chin and gently kissed her lips. Ovelia returned the kiss, however minimally.

The king strode back to the door, giving his queen a last gaze over the shoulder before exiting the chamber. The old oak door slammed immutably against its frame; Ovelia had thought herself long grown used to it, but today the noise lingered in the musty air, filling an empty silence that had not been broken for the last few weeks.

Sighing, she took her usual seat by the stone-cut window. The sky was a beautiful uninterrupted blue, with the bright overhead sun bathing the royal gardens underneath in brightness that let shine the gardens' many colors. Birds flitted about in the trees, twittering cheery melodies as they picked at ripe, dangling fruit, happy, carefree.

With the clouds disappeared, beyond the gardens, beyond the chapel ruins, Ovelia could see the plains, and was reminded of days long past, and a dear memory nearly lost.

* * *

_Far in the distance, the setting sun painted the skies' canvas a warm golden red that cast long shadows from the few boulders that dotted the sweeping grass plains of Mandalia. She sat perched atop one of those very boulders, enjoying the light breeze that accompanied the beautiful new hue and letting her legs hang freely to the wind. As she sat, she took in all she could that the landscape had to offer, from the mysteries of the shadowed outlines of distant mountains to the wonderful fresh scent of the many flowers hidden amongst the waves of grass._

_"How beautiful it all is," she said to herself, letting her voice catch the wind to wherever it would go. "Even the high fantasy of Orbonne's vast library pales before the wonder Ivalice shares freely."_

_As she bent down to the earth, the grass cries underfoot alerted her to a presence approaching behind her, with heavy footfalls heralding his arrival. "We were beginning to be worried," he said, brushing his mussed blonde hair from his eyes as he covered them, adjusting to the overhead glow. "Lady Agrias near threw a fit."_

_"I apologize," she said, patting dirt from her snow-white dress. "I needed a bit of fresh air."_

_He too looked out to the landscape. "You chose a good place, then," he remarked, taking in the cool air with a long breath. "Why not tell anyone, though?" he asked, turning to her with a question apparent in his deep brown eyes. "Has my group offended you in any way? Have I?"_

_She blushed, embarrassed. "No, not at all!" she answered emphatically. "I... I'm simply worn from so much travelling," she added, more quietly. Quickly, she raised her head again, attempting to don a mask of resolve as she realized what she might have implied. "But I am still very much fit to continue! Please, do not worry over me." Her voice trailed off again ever so slightly. He noticed, though he made no outward indication._

_In silence, they turned their heads and watched the gaping jaws of the mountains begin to swallow the sun; the closest of the shadows stretched out and licked at the pair's boots as they stood still with time. Finally, the man took another long breath with closed eyes, breaking the stillness. "Thank you for your effort, then," he said, then turned to her. "Just know that you need not lie to us or yourself."_

_As he turned to leave, she impulsively grabbed for his shoulder. "Wait! What do you mean that you say I lie?" Her hands returned to her chest as she stared into his unflinching gaze. "...Am I truly so easy to read?" she asked, hanging her head. He gave no direct answer, aware that she already knew it. She stared back up, pleading for comfort, for anything he could spare._

_"We can all tell your unhappiness, but we can but guess at what it is that troubles you." She felt gloved hands rest lightly on her back. "And what troubles you troubles the rest of us," he said quietly. "Can you confide in me?"_

_At his words, she found herself sobbing into his chest. Fiery tears flowed freely through stilted gasps, pulling tightly at his arms. Kept inside her tears were the worries that she had tried for so long to keep safely dammed. She was tired, so tired from travelling, travelling farther from anything she had ever known. The warm, resolute walls of the monastery had given way to strife and discord. Elder Simon had been replaced with a world of faceless nobles reaching from the shadows to use her to their whims. She had no one to confide in, and she could not begin with him, for as she faced her worries her throat clogged with more tears and she could only cry harder, hoping that he would understand without words. Through her fit, not once did his arms leave her side._

_Her tears began to subside after a few eternities, slowly replaced with strained coughing. Suddenly, she sprang back, remembering who she was and the responsibilities that came with it. "I'm- I am sorry," she coughed, attempting to draw herself up. "That was- That was entirely uncalled for. I- Please do not-"_

_Startling her, he took her shoulders gently, bearing a soft, rare smile. "I told you, princess. You need not lie. Growing up in a hostile house watching my every move with biased, critical eye, I know something of keeping emotions locked away, and I know the pain of doing so; I know the insatiable longing for someone to trust that pain in. I had that in my sister..." He looked into her eyes this time. "I can't imagine what you have gone through, with no one at your side."_

_She nearly burst into fresh tears, but he broadened his grin. He was clearly unsure of how, and it seemed slightly lopsided, but it was definitely a genuine smile. "But that pain is behind you now, because you have us. Myself, Agrias, Mustadio, everyone here is willing to help you through their trials, as we do for each other; it may be hard at first, and it will never be easy, but we will never stop trying to help. So do not cry now, and if you need to cry again, you can be sure that we are here to cry with you."_

_"I..." She folded her hands over her heart, perhaps trying to bring out the strange feeling welling up inside; she was unsure of what to call it, but was positive at least that it was a good one. "Thank you, ser. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart." Brushing at her eyes, she returned his smile._

_He shook his head. "Do not thank me, but think nothing of it. However long we may have known each other, and whatever the difference in our station may be, I think of you as my friend, and I can say the same for everyone here."_

_She was taken aback, stunned into silence at the wonders of his words. "Friend..." she repeated inaudibly, in disbelief that something as a friend was reaching out to her person rather than for her title. "I like that. I like that very much."_

_If he had heard her, again he made no acknowledgment. "It's getting dark, princess. We should return to the others." He turned for camp; she was still in such shock that she found herself blank-minded, unable to move. Shaking her head furiously, she picked up her dress and ran after him, walking at his side after a few slippery steps with the last rays of the sun to their backs._

_"Oh, I have been practicing with the grasswhistle since you showed me."_

_"Is that so? Shall we whistle some together?"_

* * *

She let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Ramza..." Ovelia murmured, looking to the sky above. "You couldn't be dead... Could you?"

Absentmindedly, she massaged her neck, and was surprised to find how fast her heart was beating when she thought of him. She reached into her dress for the blade of grass she kept on her, that she whistled into when tired or confused; as she felt for the grass her hand passed over another, different blade that turned cold against her skin.


End file.
